


GhbDual Week

by aquatarius



Category: Homestuck
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9548015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatarius/pseuds/aquatarius
Summary: Five days, one ship. February: Ghb<>Dualscar (Homestuck)





	1. Day One - First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So! Here we are. First of Feb and first of my ghbdual week. Very excited for this! This chapter covers their first meeting. :D

 Dualscar was fond of these parties that the empress threw. They were one of the few times he could see her in person. She herself wasn’t at every one of them, but he was, and the times he didn’t see her was worth the times that he did. 

 

 This particular party was of some importance. There was a new head of the clown church, a new head of culling. A new Grand Highblood. Dualscar was not eager to go to this party. He had no fondness for clowns, honestly, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do other then welcome the new clown to the fold of the government’s backstabbing, empress worshipping ways. No doubt the time would be full of awkward silences, bad wine, and greasy face paint that got over everything. 

 

 Still, as he stepped out of the buggon that the empress had sent to his dock, he couldn’t quell the spark of interest in his chest. The previous highblood and he had mostly ignored each other. What if this new highblood was more interested in forming some sort of rivalry or alliance? It had the potential to be a very entertaining relationship, even if the chances of it happening were very low.

 

 The ball was already in full swing, Dualscar noted as he strode into the building. The music paused briefly for him, and people scrambled out of his way as he headed to the tables where the Empress and the Highblood sat. Dualscar bowed in front of the empress and uttered a quiet greeting that she waved away with a flick of her hand. He stole a glance at the Highblood, then moved around the table to sit at the empress’s right. 

 

 The Highblood wore a purple and black vest, and had wild hair that matched his wild, large eyes. He was watching the crowd with a wide, sharp grin, and he was slouched lazily in his seat. At once, Dualscar didn’t like him. He had too much confidence, too much of an air of thinking that now that he was at the top of the chain, he was untouchable. Perhaps a little bit of celebration was in order, especially since this party was for him, but didn’t he know that everyone would be judging him tonight and deciding how easy it would be to get rid of him?

 

 What an idiot. 

 

 Dualscar wouldn’t be the one to break it to him that he might want to rethink whatever the hell sort of persona he was trying to put in the people’s mind. Dualscar’s own persona was simple. He was the Orphnaer. A silent, deadly creature that no one ever knew a damn thing about. He did not talk to the common people.  He was a hand of the empire, nothing more, nothing less. Privately, he liked strong, beautiful woman, a good drink, and history textbooks with the occasional romance novel. But, the only people who needed to know his private, and did know, were limited to his crew and his quadrants. 

 

 The Highblood looked like he’d tell the first person to ask him what his interests were. Eventually, as the evening continued, Dualscar excused himself to share a few dances with fellow sea dwellers. He wouldn’t dance with anyone who didn’t have fins on their head. There was no need to filthy his hands with their land dweller blood. 

 

 He managed to share a total of two dances before someone tapped on his shoulder as the music ended. Dualscar let go of his partner, dipped his head, and turned to face the Grand Highblood. Surely he didn’t expect Dualscar to dance with him.

 

 “Hello, Highblood.” Dualscar said coolly. The Highblood’s grin stretched until it seemed like his lower jaw would simply snap off of his face. 

 

 “Orphaner. You seem stiff.” The Highblood said. Dualscar stared at him a moment, eyebrows creasing in confusion.

 

 “Stiff?” Dualscar asked. 

 

 “All up ‘n’ unrighteously grumpy-mannered. Ice cold as the moonlight. Makes a clown all depressed just looking at you. Simple terms is: Loosen the fuck up, brother. Names Makara, by the way. Kurloz Makara.” The entire time he was speaking, the Grand Highblood watched Dualscar with an intense expression that the Orphaner couldn’t work out. Dualscar’s mood soured every moment that drivel fell from Highblood Makara’s mouth. What sort of dumbshit was running the empire now? 

 

 “Is there something you need, Makara?” Dualscar asked. Makara laughed, a burst of honks and chuckles that were too deep for anyone. It was just then that Dualscar realized that Makara was slouching. A lot. When he stood, he would be...well...huge. He could’ve crushed the previous Highblood with weight alone. That was probably exactly what he did. Clowns. 

 

 “Need you to stop being such a grump. Take a drink.” Makara said. 

 

 “I don’t drink in public, clown.” Dualscar said. He tried not to snap. He really did. Judging by the fading smile on Makara’s face, he didn’t do too well, though. 

 

 “We should fix that.”

 

 “ _ We? _ ”

 

 “Fuck yeah. I’ll show you one night you’ve never had in your life.” Makara threw back his head and laughed again, slapping his hand against his thigh. Dualscar stared. There was no way that this clown was serious. It was so hard to tell with clowns, but there was no fucking way that he was serious. 

 

 Dualscar turned away from the clown and began to walk over to the food tables. He wasn’t going to drink, but maybe some water, some punch, something wet to slide down his throat, would help him work through the clown’s idiocy. He didn’t realize that the clown was following him until he saw the shadow looming over him when he looked down at the table. He glanced over his shoulder and scowled. 

 

 Makara had somehow gotten ahold of two glasses of wine, and was holding one in Dualscar’s direction. 

 

 “Don’t worry, brother, just have some damn fun.” Makara said. 

 

 “I am not your brother.” Dualscar took the wine and set it on the table. “I won’t drink. I told you that.”

 

 “Party pooper.” 

 

 “Excuse me?”

 

 “You’re a lame, fishy, PARTY POOPER.” Makara shouted the last words, and several of the nearby trolls jumped. One or two scurried away. A servant made for the door. 

 

 He was big, he was loud, and he was strong. Even if he wasn’ fantastically smart, that was more than enough to ensure he wasn’t going to die the moment he set his ass in the throne. 

 

Dualscar was starting to see why he’d made it how far he’d made it. 

 

 Still. He was an idiot. A blithering idiot. Dualscar grit his teeth. Makara chirped and reached over and nudged his knuckles against the Orphaner’s cheek. Dualscar jerked his head back with a sharp growl.

 

 “Hush it, fish-friend. 's all good.”

  
 “Stay the fuck away from me.” Dualscar snarled. He spun away, and stalked off. Behind him, the Grand Highblood burst into laughter and honks. Dualscar had the feeling that that was not the end of things. 


	2. Humanstuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up screaming. It's not unusual, nowadays, with the past you now have behind you.

You wake up screaming. It's not unusual, nowadays, with the past you now have behind you. You heave yourself up into a sitting position, feeling like you’re choking on the air. The world spins, and a few long moments pass before you can make sense of the messy bedroom, clothes dropped on the ground and books open on the desk and shelves and empty beer bottles shoved everywhere. It's your bedroom. 

 

 With a quiet groan, you drop onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You lift your shaking hands and rub your face. Your heart pounds hard in your chest. What an idiot you were to think you could get one damn night of good sleep. Bah. You won't be able to get any more sleep tonight. Maybe a beer will calm you down. You shouldn’t have a beer, but...It makes it so much easier. 

 

 You roll off the bed, landing on your feet. Before you can fully stand up, though, the door swings open. Who the helll…? You look up, and see Kurloz’s form hovering in the doorway, scowl etched into his face. He stares at you. You stare back. 

 

 “Fuck you yelling for?” Kurloz snaps. His voice is lightly slurred. He must be as tired as you. Or maybe he's just really high.  

 

 “Nothing, Kurloz.” You say. He opens his mouth to speak, but you wave your hand to quiet him as you stand up. “It's nothing, it was just a dream.”

 

 “Dream or nightmare?” Kurloz moves aside from the door as you walk through it and shadows you as you make your way to the kitchen the two of you share. Neither of you make enough to live on your own, with your shitty pension and his drug habits. 

 

 Instead of answering his query, you start heating up some water in the hot shot. You dump in some water and hit the button and dig around for hot cocoa as Kurloz shuffles and looms behind you like an oversized pup. Your favorite mug is one with a boat on it. An old, wood boat with sails. Eridan got it for you the first year you were home, and it’s the only thing you haven’t broken in a fit of rage or a panic attack. You scoop on several spoonfuls of cocoa and then add the water from the hot shot. Kurloz nudges a spoon into your hand and you grumble a thanks. 

 

 He's going to press you for more information. He doesn't like being woken up when he tries to sleep, and if he didn't think he could get the information, he wouldn't be here. You won't tell him. It's none of his business, what you dream about. If he wants to know, he can go for a tour or two at sea and get them himself. 

 

 “What did you dream about?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose.

 

 “It's not any of your business.” You say. He snorts.

 

 “It is if you wake up fucking squealing about it.” He says.

 

 “I do not squeal.”

 

 “Sure you do. Squeal like a pig stuck on an electric stick. Like a little girl.” Kurloz grins, and his teeth look unnaturally sharp in the dull light of the kitchen. You stare at him, and then tear your eyes away and sip your cocoa. It's the perfect 'burn your throat slightly’ temperature your mother raised you on.

 

 Silence fills the space between you two, soft and forgiving now. Words you wish you could say pass through your mind and rest at the base of your throat. You wish you could reach in and give them to Kurloz and tell him everything, but you cannot. He doesn’t mind. He never minds. He is not someone who places value on words, ‘less they be jokes of his particular humor. 

 

 As you sip the cocoa in your hands, you contemplate trying to tell him anyway. How would he react if he knew how deeply your fears run? How every time you heard fireworks you cram yourself into your closet and scream into that stupid leather greaser jacket until you can taste blood from your raw throat. How your feel rain on your skin and remember how the water at sea felt and the things you did and you want to kill yourself, because why should someone like you live when innocents died because of you? How the sight of a gun makes your stomach flip and bile fill your throat? He would hate you, be disgusted with you and your weaknesses. Just like you are. 

 

You finish the cocoa quickly and set down the mug. It doesn't matter, anyway, he doesn't care what you don't say. You reach for something stronger, up to the vodka your brother bought you for Christmas. Kurloz catches your wrist in his hand and squeezes it gently.

 

 “Mother fucker, you ain't wanting to be fuckin’ yourself up like that.” He says quietly. You stare at his hand on your wrist, and your hand goes limp. He makes this quiet, rumbling sound, and pushes your hand down to your side. “Go back to bed. Do you need me to tuck you in?”

 

 He says it seriously, and that, of course, means it’s a joke. You hate being laughed at.

 

 “No! I do not need you to-”

 

 “Need some mother fuckin’ snuggle buddy in there with you?” Kurloz grins, this wicked, proud look, and you want so badly to hit him. 

 

 Instead you growl wordlessly at him, almost throw your mug into the sink (There’s a frightening clinking noise, and your stomach twists, and you hate yourself even more, fucking  _ damnit _ .), and storm back towards your room. He trots after you and you ignore him. You aren’t going to pay attention to that asshole. 

 

 You go into your room and slam the door shut. Or, you try to. It hits a palm, but you are not paying attention to that, nope, you are climbing into your bed and pulling the covers over your head. Kurloz lays down on top of the covers, and on top of you. 

 

 Forty eight seconds. You make it forty eight seconds before shoving the blankets off your face and giving him a hell of a scowl. He flicks out his tongue at you, and then lays down his head and closes his eyes. With his tongue still out. He looks like a child pretending to be dead. 

 

 And he’s doing it for your sake. 

 The realization comes shockingly fast and you nearly physically recoil from him. 

 

 He’s  _ not _ making fun of you. 

 

 He’s trying to make you  _ laugh _ . 

 

 You lean your head back down against the pillow and stare at the ceiling, your eyes stinging. What a fucking idiot you are, Cronus Ampoa, Dualscar to your friends, what a fucking idiot. You close your eyes and grit your teeth, and slowly, slowly, slowly reach your hand down to hold his. He squeezes it tightly, and then goes limp. 

  
 Kurloz doesn’t leave, and you don’t ask him to. You don’t have nightmares, either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand day two is up. Righto. Tomorrow's fic theme starts with A and has Condy in it.


	3. Ashen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've got more important shit to do then be spaded by the empress.

You fuckin’ hate him. That’s final as hell. Ain’t some joke that a mother fucker’s going to convince you to rethink. You just hate him. You hate his attitude, you hate his stupid face, you hate his flirtatious attitude, you hate his fins - You hate his fins  _ most.  _ You want to rip them off his damn head and EAT them. See if that knocks him off his high hoof beast. 

 

 If the empress thinks she can wave her three-prong, double sided, over glorified stick at the both of you and say ‘get better’, then she’s got another thing coming. You ain’t gonna be her fuckin’ puppet and dance around to her pale and gray strings. 

 

 The meeting she’s called is set in the outskirts of the carnival, in a small town about half a night away from the harbor. You push open the doors, and scowl into the room. The Orphaner Dualscar is sitting on one side of the circle table the empress had brought in. The empress is sitting on another side, leaving a perfect space for you to join the gathering. You walk over and throw yourself into one of the massive seats. None of you are small trolls, so of course all the seats are massive. 

 

 Dualscar is looking at the empress, face set in a stern, but blank look. You just scowl at the table. The empress snorts loudly. 

 

 “The two a ya are fuckin’ wrigglers shoretimes, I sea-wear.” She says. Neither of you respond, so she cracks her long, slender fingers. “Watercha gotcha panties in a bunch this tide?”

 

 “He’s bein’ a bitch and not telling his men to leave my damn clowns alone.” You snap. Dualscar’s head snaps up and he snarls at you. 

 

 “You mean the clowns that are  _ attacking  _ my sailors?” Dualscar asks, You grin, tip your palms to the moons, and shrug. 

 

 “Dunno what they’re doing out there, mother fucker.” You say. You say it in that tone that you know pisses him off most, the ‘you can’t do anything about it tone.’ He lungs across the table, but is, sadly, stopped by the prong-stick being thrust in front of him.

 

 “Handmaid and Horrorterrors.” The Condesce says, pushing Dualscar back with her prong-stick. Dualscar flops back into his seat. “Loz, you know better then to let your guppies attack the navy.”

 

 Damn it, why is she siding with the brine breather? Probably because she believes sea dwellers should stick together. You cross your arms, and stick your tongue out at Dualscar. 

 

 “Kurloz…” The Condesce’s tone is warning this time. You suck back in your tongue. “Orfisher. Cronus. Ya been letting the sea folk attack ya moir-eel’s buoys and gills?” 

 

 “No. I’ve been letting them  _ defend _ themselves. I gave strict orders to not attack, only to defend.” Dualscar says. There’s a beat of silence, and you open your mouth to talk. Dualcar beats you to the punch, though. “It’s not my fault if they’re attacking anyway. The clowns are aggravating them.” 

 

 The empress groans loudly, and flops back into her seat. Her prong-stick swings dangerously. 

 

 “How the fuck are we supposed to get anyfin done around here if my two main bouys can’t get along enough to control their armies!” She lets the end of her prong-stick slam onto the ground. Dualscar looks away. He hates disappointing her. Probably because of the flush crush that everyone can see from a mile away. Hah. 

 

 “If he wasn’t so hard to get along with-” Dualscar is cut off by a loud honk from yours truly, and you stand up. 

 

 “I am a mother fuckin’ miracle, brother. You’re the one who gets offended by every little damn thing! If YOU weren’t so-”

 

 “SHUT YA MOUTHS.” The empress slams her prong-stick on the table, and a loud bang echoed through the room. You struggle to get your rage under control, glaring at the Orphaner. Slowly, you force yourself to sit down. Dualscar isn’t even looking at you. He’s eyeing the prong-stick. 

 

 “The two of you have to get along.” The empress says. She sets her prong-stick on the table and crosses her arms. “This ain’t a choice. Get along, or get outta my empire. Hear me? Good. It’s about tide that you buoys learned how to get along. If ya don’t think ya can, the door is over there.” She waves at the door, and you give it a glance before grumbling and leaning your back against the back of the chair. 

 

 “Make his clowns stop attacking my men.” Dualscar says. 

 

 “Anyone who attacks anyone shell be krilled.” The Empress gives each of you a meaning look. “I expect both a ya to keep your trolls under control. No more meetings like this.” 

 

 You mutter as ‘yes ma’am’ under your breath. Dualscar says something, but you don’t catch it in time to hear what it is. Judging from the empress’s pleased expression, it was probably not too different from you. 

  
 “You’re both excused.” She says. You stand up, and go to the door at once. You’ve got more important shit to do than get spaded by the empress and the Orfisher. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day three! We are now over half done. Thanks for the comments, guys, they really are making my day! ^v^


	4. Pale session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dualscar goes to his pale mate's to fulfill a promise.

 Dualscar stood outside the Highblood’s tent. He’d promised to spend the day over when he got the chance so they could have some time just...paling each other. The night had come sooner than Dualscar had expected, so here he was, with an overday bag, ready to surprise his moirail. He was so tired, every limb damn near refusing to move, but he had to keep his promise. 

 

 He inhaled and pushed open the tent. 

 

 The inside was, predictably, a mess. Clothes, face paint, horns, bottles, books, food, and more were spread across the floor like some fucked up mosaic. The clown, Grand Highblood Kurloz Makara himself was curled up on a pile, smoking a pipe. He paused in his smoking and lifted his head with a sharp growl. The sound died off quickly when his eyes met Dualscar’s, and a sharp, shrill honk burst from him. Dualscar winced, and his fins twitched. He was so not in the mood for excitement. 

 

 “FISH.” Makara said. Dualscar grunted and threw his bag in a corner. “Ain’t no troll be telling me you’re VISITING.”

 

 “Surprise. Your hive is a mess.” Dualscar said, wading over to the pile. Makara grinned and grabbed his arm as soon as he was close enough. He tugged the Orphaner onto the pile and cooed. 

 

 “My handsome fish. You ain’t leaving any time soon.” Makara pulled Dualscar close and curled around him. The pipe was forgotten on the pile. 

 

 “A mess, Kurloz.” Dualscar set his hands on Makara’s arms, and pushed on them until they were at a comfortable angle. He needed more space then the clown was giving him. 

 

 “Supposed to be. I ain’t gonna clean it up.” Makara said. He nuzzled Dualscar’s hair roughly. Dualscar grumbled and batted at him, only to get a nipping for his troubles. “Don’t be a fucker. Be still and lemme get my snuggle on so a stressed out fish can get his relax on.” 

 

 Dualscar sighed heavily, but let the clown get his snuggle on. Makara no doubt knew what he was doing. 

 

 He was nuzzled, kissed, nipped, nibbled, sucked, and pet in various places, including, but not limited to: his hair, his face, his fins, his neck and gills, his hands, and his collar bone. He had the feeling hickeys and bite marks were being left behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Hopefully they  _ would _ be. People could see that their Orphaner was claimed. 

 

 Before long, the sensations began to get to him, and a soft, needy purr rumbled out of his throat. He had almost forgot how nice it was to just...be cuddled and pampered for a while. All the tension was easing out of his body and all the troubles of being an Orphaner were so far away. What did it matter who wanted to kill who and who’d slept with so and so when he was being pet by the gentlest hands in the empire? When his bared throat was being kissed and hands were stroking through his hair, petting his horns? 

 

 He groaned quietly as Makara pressed his tongue into the corner of his gills. 

 

 “S-stop, that’s enough.” Dualscar said. Makara paused for a moment, then drew back, flicking the tip of his tongue against Dualscar’s jaw as he did. “You’re too good at that. I assume you’ve been practicing for me.”

 

 “Nah, mother fucker. It’s all my natural skill.” Makara laughed, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Dualscar’s mouth. 

 

 “You’re a shitty liar.” Dualscar said. He smiled, though, and reached up to cup Makara’s face in his hands. “A shitty liar, but a great pap.”

 

 “Aw, you’re making a clown brother blush, brother.” Makara crooned and pressed his face into Dualscar’s hands. “I want you to get some sleep. Think you can do that for me?” 

 

 Dualscar hesitated. He didn’t want to go to sleep so early. He’d just arrived, damnit. But he...He  _ was _ tired. He was so tired. 

 

 “I don’t want to.” Dualscar said, lowering his hands. 

 

 “I know, fishy. Close your eyes. I’ll take care of you.” Makara replied. 

 

 Dualscar obeyed, closing his eyes. Makara nuzzled his jaw, and kissed it once, then curled around him tightly and simply held him. 

  
 It didn’t take long for the Orphaner to sleep, and when he did, it was deeply, without a single daymare. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go! ^v^ I remember wanting to make the pale session long and steamy but...It just didn't work that way! Sometimes ya gotta let the muse go where she wants. Tomorrow's is my personal favorite, but I think it might also be the shortest. Ah well.


	5. Angel/demonstuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon visits an old friend.

It’s been a long time since you were in this particular bar. It's a small, out of theway place, between earth and limbo. A sort of even ground, where no one can fight and no one has any distinct advantage, bar (Hehe) the man running the bar. A vampire or something. You forget. 

 

 Not that it matters to you. No fuckin’ vampire can stand up against a demon. Not even one with exceptionally long fangs and a darkness that hides behind his soul and warns of something worse than vampirehood. 

 

 You’re not here for some freaky vampire, though. You’re here for a scarred up angel. The angel that’s sitting at the bar counter, hunched over a drink and scowling at it like it’s done him a far worse insult than anything else in his exceptionally long life. With a chuckle, you head over and sit down next to Dualscar. 

 

 “Hey, angel.” You say. He grunts, and flicks his gaze up to you for a moment, then back down to his drink. 

 

 “Long time no see, demon.” Dualscar’s voice is low, and sounds pissed off as hell. Which means he’s probably not happy to see you, but you never thought he’d be. 

 

 “Heard you were here. Came to see if that was true. Got your sorry ass locked outta the pearly gates again?”

 

 “Fuck you, Blood-demon.” Dualscar sneers. “None a your damn business.”

 

 The vampire sets a drink in front of you and fills up Dualscar’s before moving away. For a while, you let silence sit between you and Dualscar like a pretty curtain of fake-peace and lonely nights and days that were fun and are long gone, hidden under too many wounds and insults to forget. 

 

 “I miss how we used to be.” You say, voice quieter then you’ve let it be in a long time. 

 

 “I don’t. Our entire partnership was one fucking mistake after another. I’m glad it’s over.” Dualscar says. You snort, and lean your shoulder against his. He doesn’t shrug it off, but he does stiffen. 

 

 “I’m sorry.” You say. Dualscar lifts his head and stares at the mirror that’s set behind the glasses, on the wall. His wings are visible in it, torn and burnt. His eyes study his face, though, all the nicks, and the two huge scars on it. 

 

“I don’t care.” Dualscar says finally. 

 

 Your heart shivers and threatens to break, but you simply hold it together with the knowledge that crying won’t make him any more sympathetic to your cause. 

 

 “We were good, y’know.” Your voice is a quiet whisper. 

 

 He nods. He nods, and throws the contents of his cup into his mouth, and swallows, and waves for another. 

 

 The two of you have spent a lot of time in that bar. Some of it good, some of it bad. The memories make the place so valuable. But whatever you and Dualscar had when you were teamed up, it’s gone, and sniffing him out clearly did no fucking good at all. 

  
 But you don’t leave. The two of you sit there, in the silence of mistakes and late apologies, and ponder what could’ve been, had you not been too prideful to unbend yourself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're done! Thanks to everyone who read, left kudos, and huge thanks to those who commented. ^v^

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned. Tomorrow's chapter theme starts with the letter H. The summery is 'You wake up screaming. It's not unusual, nowadays, with the past you now have behind you.' Until tomorrow!


End file.
